


you're just my type

by sundayrice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Cooking Lessons, Dancing and Singing, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MT!Prompto, Photography, Pining, ehhh well sorta, there's a bit of everything really, yeah there's a bit of that in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundayrice/pseuds/sundayrice
Summary: "There are many ways to love you, my dear. And I intend to find them all."//Collection of works for Promnis Week 2018





	1. freckles & constellations

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't really sure I'd have the time to participate, but I decided to give it a shot, even if I'm a bit late on some of them.
> 
> Alternating perspectives for each day, so we'll start with Prompto and Ignis will be next chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day one | ~~first meeting~~ or "can i take a picture of you like this?"
> 
> prompto discovers ignis's hidden shy side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no content warnings for this chapter (´∀｀) only prompto fawning over a shirtless iggy.

A sweaty day cooped up in a Lestallum hotel suite wasn't exactly what Prompto was expecting when he was officially enlisted as a member of the Crownsguard. Still, he can't say he minds all that much. The sights outside of Insomnia are unlike anything he's ever seen. Galdin Quay's infinite reach of the crystalline blue waters, to the mountainous horizon of the Lestallum-bound freeway.

The soft humming of the hotel shower drowns out any background noise, mostly the clicking noises of Prompto's camera while he skims through his photos. It's while Prompto's casually flicking through his growing gallery when he realizes that something's off.

_Ignis._

He doesn't have many photos of Ignis. Ones of him buried in the distance while Noctis and Gladio take up the whole frame. Ignis always averts his eyes. Staring off into the horizon at something unknown, finding  _something else_ to distract himself with while Prompto snaps his shots. Prompto doesn't have any room feeling offended. And he's not  _really_ offended, he's just disappointed, maybe.

The lack of Ignis in his gallery makes it feel empty. It makes Prompto feel empty.

But while Gladio and Noctis have taken it upon themselves to hunt for supplies around Lestallum, Prompto thinks he might as well snap a few shots of Ignis, even if he keeps them just to himself. He doesn't know if he'll be able to, the man makes himself elusive whenever Prompto pulls out his camera. But it's worth the effort, Prompto figures. And the obituary, if he dies trying.

Prompto starts a fresh pot of coffee while he waits for Ignis.

 

|||

 

"Prompto, have you seen my glasses?"

Prompto almost drops his coffee in surprise when he sees Ignis, completely fresh out of the shower. He's still dripping wet, rubbing his eyes as if he's just woken up.

And he's practically naked too, except for a black pair of boxers and a towel hanging over one shoulder. Rarely does he get a chance to catch Ignis with his hair down; Ignis's usually the first one in and out of the shower anyway. Unlike his usually quiff, the wet mess of ash blonde strands frame his face delicated, unlike Noctis's fringe. Seems like Ignis effortlessly looks good, even when he's just come out of the shower.

And fuck, it's a pretty good look for him.

Prompto's half paying attention to the hot coffee mug in his hands until a bit spills in his lap.

Not an ideal start to the morning— _I dropped my coffee because my boyfriend is too sexy._ He'd rather spare the embarrassment.

Prompto's so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgets Ignis asked him a question."On the, uh, you left 'em on the kitchen counter."

Ignis hums a simple reply. Prompto hopes that he doesn't notice him fawning.

His eyes follow Ignis as he makes his way to the kitchen. Prompto's never realized before, but Ignis has freckles on his back and shoulders. Did Ignis _always_ have freckles there or was it because of the Lestallum sun, Prompto can't be sure. To be fair, he's never really gotten a chance to see Ignis's back, he's one who likes to keep himself covered up.

Prompto's doing it again; he's getting lost staring at Ignis. At the long, pale expanse of Ignis's back. His eyes scan the freckles that dot his back like night-time constellations. He's never really thought of his own as beautiful but on Ignis, they look _gorgeous_. Prompto imagines the two of them cuddling in bed, his forehead pressed against Ignis's back. His eyes would draw lines down his neck and along his back. And then ever so gently, he'd lay kisses on the freckles, every single one of them.

"Can I take a picture of you like this?" Prompto asks, rather sheepishly, as he's trying his best not to let the bright red on his ears show.

Ignis abruptly stops drying his hair and turns his head away from Prompto. "With clothes on, perhaps."

He's had his camera in his lap the whole time and quietly he starts to to reach for it.

Seems he's not quiet enough, because all of a sudden Ignis jerks his head back around. "Someone has little patience, I see," his voice doesn't falter from its usual sarcastic self. And while he tries to keep smug, the embarrassment is pretty clearly written on Ignis' face.

It's rare to see Ignis become so withdrawn, especially when he always seems to carry himself with poise and dignity. In battle, at the very least, Prompto's gotten lost in his movements, almost as if he were a dancer.

He's never really considered that Ignis, maybe, deep down, was self-conscious. That little bit kills Prompto inside, that Ignis doesn't see himself as beautiful as Prompto does.

(More than little hypocritical of Prompto to think that but he tries not to dwell on it too much.)

Ignis's back is turned while he puts on a casual pair of grey sweatpants, clearly not his own, if the size were any indication.

Prompto's not going to let this moment go to waste.

He snaps a photo, the noise of the shutter causing Ignis to turn around, with his sweatpants hanging low enough that Prompto sees the waistband of his boxers and the curve of his hip bone.

By the Six, Prompto's bright red by now.

"You should wear a shirt less often, Iggy," and in spite of himself, Prompto still has the nerves to tease him.

"Hardly," Ignis lets out a small laugh. Prompto counts that as a little victory for today. "That's Gladio's job."

Prompto slips his camera into his back pocket. "I wouldn't mind getting a better look at those freckles."

He's about to draw Ignis in for a hug when Ignis moves first. Gently, Ignis grabs Prompto by the chin.

"My turn first," Ignis says.

Briefly, the two hold each other's gaze. He moves in closer and presses his lips against Prompto's nose. Quick rapid kisses across his cheeks and nose, until finally, Ignis's lips find a place with Prompto's.

As they break apart, Prompto grins. "Okay, well it's my turn now."

He circles around Ignis and wraps his arms around his waist, playfully tugging at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. His head rests gently against Ignis's back.

Prompto presses kisses all along the nape of Ignis's neck. At first, Ignis recoils a bit but slowly settles in as Prompto's lips work their way down his back.

"I'm gonna kiss every one of these freckles, by the way."

Quickly, Ignis jerks back around and squeezes Prompto's cheeks with one hand.

"A mistake on your part to challenge me because you know who will win," Ignis smirks and— _gods,_ Prompto shivers a little bit at that damned smirk.

Prompto's hands reaches down for his back pocket; the camera still sitting snuggly.

Their foreheads are nearly touching with how little distance there is between them. He can hear Ignis's hitching breath and smell the shampoo and cologne. Prompto's pressing in closer, as Ignis's hands are falling down to Prompto's hips. He rubs circles over the fabric of Prompto's jeans with his thumbs. Almost there, Ignis eagerly waiting for a kiss—

_Click!_

Prompto jerks back and draws the camera as quick as his gun. One snapshot of Ignis's flustered face. Along with it, he catches a bit of Ignis's right shoulder. The angle leaves the freckles just barely visible. A bit of a blurry photo too, but Prompto's too busy laughing to himself to care.

"Gotcha! See, look!" Prompto frantically gestures towards the photo."Why won't you let me take more pictures of you? You look good, like, _supermodel good_."

" _Delete it_."

Blunt as a knife, Ignis is, but Prompto can't hold back his snickering, not even as Ignis shoots him a glance that most certainly means death.

"Gotta say, didn't expect you to be the embarrassed type, Iggy," Prompto says. "I don't mind though,"

_", you're pretty cute that way."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> promnis endlessly teasing each other, aka everything i live for.


	2. you mind if i stay the night?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day two | pining or ~~fake relationship to real relationship~~
> 
> this is just a simple crush. nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for alcohol aka ignis is smashed out of his damn mind lol.
> 
> ignis pines for prompto and purely self-indulgent content.

Ignis admits, he didn't expect things to go this far.

Work is work and work does not mingle with love, that's how his uncle used to put it when Ignis was little. Now, he can't be sure he'll honor that rule. Not when  _work_ was what introduced him to  _love_ in the first place. 

He's not going to tell Noctis about his little crush, for lack of a better word.

It _is_ just a crush, Ignis thinks, because he'll be over it soon enough. That's what crushes do, they come and go like leaves in the wind. And most importantly, they leave no trace after they're gone.

Noctis isn't the one Ignis turns to when he's in emotional turmoil, he's got a much better solution than that.

Gladio pops open another bottle of red wine. They've already polished off one and the night's only begun.

Right now, Ignis prefers to get smashed out of his mind and he'd rather do that with Gladio of all people. 

The two of them lay on Gladio's couch. Ignis's hair has become disheveled, the prime and proper look completely undone. He untucks his dress shirt and unbuttons the first few buttons. He can't even find his socks or shoes anymore.

"You want another glass?" Gladio asks, more out of courtesy than anything. He's already pouring the wine before Ignis can answer. Ignis takes the glass and mutters a slurred _thank you_. The wine's already half-gone before Gladio can even say anything.

He puts the glass on Gladio's coffee table and lays back down on the couch, his head dizzy because he finds himself no longer focusing on anything else except for the way a certain blonde's lips purse when he's talking about something he loves. The way a certain blonde's eyes lit up with passion when he vowed to join the Crownsguard.

He remembers standing behind Prompto, his fingers gently placed on top of his as he aims his newly-issued gun. He remembers Prompto's firm stance and flexed fingers as he positioned the gun a second time.

He remembers visiting Prompto's house in the east end of Insomnia on a rainy night. Prompto'd forgotten his phone on Noct's kitchen counter. He was standing in the pouring rain under his blazer. That was the first time he'd ever seen Prompto's house. That was the first time he'd ever eaten anything Prompto had cooked.

A lonely little place that felt  _homier_ when they were together. That's what Prompto had said.  _"My parents aren't usually around, sorry. Uh, anyways thanks for stopping by! It's comfier when someone else is here."_

Was that memory a dream or reality? Ignis can't place them anymore, not among the swirling visions he has of Prompto's hand and his. They'd be sitting at a cafe table, fingers intertwined over the center. And just as Prompto reaches for another sip of his coffee, Ignis pulls him in for a kiss, desperate and passionate.

He tastes Prompto's coffee on his tongue. That much is a dream, but Ignis sincerely wishes it wasn't.

"You really like him, don't ya?" Gladio says. _Yes, I do._ But as he tries to speak, Ignis's throat runs dry. He knows the words but he can't find them. Wetness is starting to gather in his eyes.

Ignis spots the clock in Gladio's kitchen that reads  _1:54_. He's not about to make a scene crying in Gladio's apartment at 2 in the morning, but he might as well. It's not like he really needs to worry about his dignity anymore.

He grabs the nearest pillow and presses it against his face. And he screams. Merciful be the Astrals, he screams. Gladio says nothing, simply looking on with a mournful face and a half-full glass of red wine in his hand.

"I have no idea what to do with myself," Ignis says, letting go of the pillow and letting it fall to the floor.

He should've cut the root before they'd ever had a chance to grow. Prompto's become an invasion growing in his thoughts, for better or for worse. For worse perhaps, because a duty like his is never forgiving to those who find themselves in love. Any connection to the Crown is a death wish. The red string will tie itself to you until you go down choking. He really wishes he would've told Prompto that.

It really would've been better for both of them if Prompto didn't get involved.

Prompto thinks he's the unworthy one, if his attitude during his Crownsguard training is any indication. But Ignis knows Prompto isn't the 21 year old grown-ass man, who's pouting and crying on his friend's couch at 2 am. All because he has a  _crush._ A damn crush, that was all it was supposed to be.

This isn't a crush.

This is love and Ignis doesn't how to feel about it.


	3. give me a boost over heaven's gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day three | first kiss or ~~ignis comforting prompto from reoccurring nightmares~~
> 
> he imagines their first kiss would've gone something like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for maximum immersion, listen to [this](https://open.spotify.com/track/324GRi36Rvt628Ah6l0axv?si=HUMWZaJ9SUWvJtk-pu-X2g) song while you read.
> 
> i was actually originally gonna do the other prompt for today but as i was on the bus i had the best idea, so you're getting this instead.

_He imagines their first kiss would've gone something like this. His memory is too fuzzy to remember the details in whole, or even if the details he's about to tell exist at all. Perhaps it's all a ridiculous fabrication of a clouded mind._

_He might not have seen him that night at all, he could've been laying in bed and wallowing in his pity instead. He might've already been asleep._

_But this is the story he'd like to tell instead. He imagines their first kiss would've gone something like this._

 

 

This is the first time Prompto's had a visitor in a long while.

And certainly not the person he expects to be, not at this hour anyway. Not at this hour and not in this weather. Prompto had given up on trying to sleep. He can't with the howling wind and rain hitting his bedroom window as hard as pellets.

Outside, his visitor stands with little more than a makeshift umbrella. With one hand, he holds his blazer above his head. The blazer looks heavy with water. His other arm is hugging a cloth bag tight to his chest. Prompto can't tell what's in the bag. One of them looks like his high school chemistry textbook that he hasn't seen since he graduated.

"Oh shit Iggy," Prompto says, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck. "Are these for me? Sorry, you didn't have to."

Ignis simply shakes his head. "Not a problem at all. You'd forgotten a few things at Noct's apartment."

 _Oh._ So it is his fault Ignis had to come here. Why else would he be here anyways? Other than the fact that Prompto's caused him yet another inconvenience. He had to come here in the pouring rain when he otherwise could've been asleep instead. He's tempted to ask how Ignis even knows where he lives. He's tempted to ask why he even cares that much.

Prompto opts to keep his mouth shut. Prompto takes the cloth bag from Ignis and peaks around in it. Shit, it was his chemistry textbook. And a few comics and games he'd probably lent Noct and then forgot about after a week. And his phone and wallet. The weird mix of gratitude and guilt he feels grows even bigger. If it weren't for Ignis, he'd be stumbling like an idiot, trying to buy groceries only to realize that he's missing his debit card.

He doesn't know why he can't just say _thanks_ and be done with it, but he's always felt like _thanks_ is never enough.

"You want some coffee?" 11:45 at night isn't the ideal time for a cup of coffee, but it's the least he can do to repay Ignis for all his troubles. 

Ignis nods. While Prompto makes his way to the kitchen, he gestures for Ignis to sit down. 

The room falls silent, except for the boiling of a kettle. The silence was killing him inside. The kettle doesn't make him feel any better. Prompto's still trying to shake the sinking feeling of his own irrational guilt.

It's Ignis's voice that snaps him out of his thoughts. "No one else is home, I presume?"

"Yep, just me," Prompto sighs. "It'll be just me for the whole month, probably."

"I see," Ignis says. "well, if you're ever struggling, please don't hesitate to let us know."

When he says _us_ , Prompto knows he means that money from the Citadel ( _from the royal family_ ) will be going into paying his bills, alongside that Crownsguard training he already can't afford. He can't say it's an undesirable situation, far from it, but it's not his wish to become a royal freeloader.

A few minutes and Prompto's back with two cups of coffee. One cup's chipped at the rim. He sets aside the better-looking cup for Ignis.

"Despite everything, I'd say you're doing well," Ignis says before taking a sip of his coffee.

"I mean, it get's a little lonely sometimes since my parents aren't usually around, but," Prompto pauses. The cup's shaking in his hand. "I appreciate you coming. It's comfier when someone else is also here."

He sees Ignis's mouth lifting at the corners, and he isn't too sure if it's a smile or just his imagination.

"Do you mind if I take a look around?" The obvious answer is  _yes,_ actually Prompto does mind. A lot. He'd rather keep people out for a reason.But he's not going to say that to Ignis; instead, he hums in agreement, almost half-heartedly. 

Ignis's slowly prodding around the living room, which makes Prompto much more self-conscious than he reasonably should be. After spending time in the Citadel, it only makes him more aware of how inadequate his home feels. His cramped, little two-story house. Prompto turns away for a second and loses track of Ignis. Only to find him hunched over in the corner of his living room. There's an ebony piano that almost blends into the background. Prompto hardly remembers it even being there.

Ignis lifts the lid of the piano and presses on a few of the keys. 

"Oh yeah, that thing," Prompto says. "I kinda forgot it was even here. I think my mom says she got it cheap from an auction or something."

Ignis presses on the same keys, the beginning of a rhythm, but he stops halfway.

"You don't have to stop," his words come across too pushy for his liking, but Prompto means it.

Ignis's head drops. Whether he's smiling or he's sighing, Prompto doesn't know.

A single key first, then the tune picks up where it left off. As Ignis plays, Prompto can't help from tapping his feet. He's humming along, some sort of non-existent lyrics that he's fabricated before just to make sense of it all.

"That's the Insomnian Waltz, right?"

It was a song written long ago about two lovers in the Royal Insomnian Court. They're holding close as a soft ballad fills the ballroom. Their faces are covered by masks and yet their hearts beat in sync with fingers tangled together. 

A handsome Tenebraen viscount asks the lowly soldier for the last dance. That part didn't actually happen but Prompto likes to pretend it did.

Just for a second, he sees Ignis's eyes beam. "I'm surprised you recognize it," Ignis says. "My uncle's old favorite."

"Know any others?" Prompto says, "I, uh, I'd be happy to sing along."

Ignis smiles. "Are you suggesting we do a duet?"

Prompto remains silent. His crooked smile tells Ignis more words than he could ever say.The bench creaks as Prompto sits down. His back is pressed against Ignis's, close enough that he feels Ignis's entire body shift as he's breathing.

Without a word, Ignis's fingers go back to playing. He's got the hands of an artist, slender fingers that work with delicate precision. It's a different tune this time, something less dramatic and filled with more melancholy. This isn't a spectacle, it's a private message between two lovers.

Either way, Prompto knows he's heard this before. His mouth moves without meaning too, and now he's humming along. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's trying to find the lyrics. The story of a man barred from the gates of Heaven as he tries to reunite with his lover. Yet so incomplete without his lover by his side, he asks the gods to join together in Heaven.

Prompto's too enraptured in himself to really care what Ignis thinks of his singing. His heart is racing, he feels like it's beating with the tempo of the song.

The pace picks up. He doesn't see Ignis's face but feels his head shift. Head tilted down slightly, completely absorbed in his playing. His fingers move with grace. Even Ignis is starting to hum along with Prompto and neither misses a single beat. All emotion as they lose themselves to the feeling of the music.

 

> _You're the one,_
> 
> _You're the one._
> 
> _You're the one,_
> 
> _You're the one,_
> 
> _You're the one habit I just can't kick,_

 

As the sound of the last key rings in the air, Prompto exhales, feeling Ignis do the same against him.

"Prompto that," Ignis takes another deep breath in. "That was lovely."

At that, Prompto's posture sinks. He can feel the heat gathering in his cheeks. And, oh gods, is it a blessing that Ignis can't see his face. He isn't sure he's even capable of speaking anymore. As he tries to mutter another _thanks_ to Ignis, the words don't escape his tongue. Ignis doesn't deserve his thanks, he deserves better than that.

The two stand up at the same time. Prompto's about to head back to the kitchen to clean up when he feels a hand curl around his right bicep.

"Please, don't go just yet." Ignis has a new look on his face, one that Prompto can't exactly place.

One of—

One of passion.

One of wanting to be kissed absolutely senseless.

He feels assertive, more so than usual. And yet Ignis decides to take charge, drawing Prompto in. Heart pressed against heart. His hands hover over Prompto's cheeks until they rest against the bare skin. First, their foreheads bump and Prompto's face is growing hotter from Ignis's uneven breathing. His breathing is shallow, his heart is pounding so loud he can feel it in his ears. Ignis leans in closer.

It's like a wave of electricity when their lips touch. Ignis lifts one hand and runs it through Prompto's hair and his index finger curls around a few strands. Ignis is a passionate kisser, one that holds on tight with his whole body. It's almost as if he's afraid Prompto will float away from him and yet Prompto wouldn't dare. Prompto takes it in and savors this moment with all his being.

He doesn't know how long they stayed there. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. To Prompto, that kiss was nothing less than an eternity.

 

 

_He doesn't remember the rest. But he remembers the taste of coffee on his lover's tongue as they kissed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i saw an image a while back on tumblr of ignis playing the piano and prompto sitting with him singing and that also kinda inspired this, so if anyone has ANY clue what i'm talking about, i'd appreciate the link!!!
> 
> EDIT: thank you to the people that all sent me a link to this wonderful art by [Kaciart](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/168128438588), it's super cute!!


	4. sweeter than honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day four | ~~gloves~~ or ignis teaches prompto how to cook
> 
> food always tastes better with the ones you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i kept the cooking part of the prompt but i'm not sure if there's very much teaching lmao
> 
> this one featuring noct and gladio this time, being little shits as usual.

Ignis is told to arrive with a box of tissues, some menthol cough drops, and a recipe book. Prompto sounded pretty frantic over the phone, which isn't entirely unheard of, but this time it seems more serious than usual. He brings more than just a box of tissues, some menthol cough drops, and a recipe book. He might've also brought a first-aid kit, just for good measure.

He rings the doorbell for the second time. There's some indistinct chatter from the other side. The door unlocks and along with it, there are frantic footsteps back and forth.

"Iggy's here!" Prompto yells from what Ignis can only imagine is Noctis's kitchen. Meanwhile, a miserable mess of blankets and black hair is sitting on the couch. He's used to seeing Noctis grumpy in the morning, though this is a new level he didn't expect of him. Gladio's next to him, his hand under Noctis's shirt and rubbing in circles over his back. The other hand is keeping open a book. He doesn't say anything but tips his head in acknowledgment. 

"Where's Prompto?"

"Right here!" He comes out of the kitchen practically running.

Prompto's got his fringe pulled back with a bright red hair clip and a tight, white v-neck that exposes his neck and collarbone. He doesn't remember Prompto's muscles being so defined, his chest being so _p_ _rominent_. The apron he's wearing one covers his waist and is one of Ignis's older ones. He could've sworn he'd lost it. 

He's gonna lose it if Prompto doesn't cover up that chest, _for Shiva's sake_.

"Dare I ask what happened here?"

Noctis pulls his head under his lump of blankets. "I feel like coeurl shit," there's definitely more rasp in his voice, though it's hard to tell when his voice is so muffled. As soon as winter hits Insomnia, Noctis's always been the most likely to get a cold, so Ignis can't force himself to be too surprised. Even still, he sincerely hoped the royal bloodline could've given their future king a better immune system than this.

"Sorry for the short notice," Prompto says, arms crossed over his chest – in a way that makes his muscles even more prominent – and fingers pale with a tense grip. "Noct wanted some soup but I figured I'd need some help."

"Ah, so it's His Highness that's bothering you, now is it?" Ignis says with a smirk.

"Well," Prompto coughs. "That and I wouldn't mind the extra company."

Ignis props down his things next to the doorstep, save for the recipe book and the cough drops. He tosses the pack of cough drops to Gladio, who barely lifts his eyes from his book to catch them. In the kitchen, Prompto hands him an apron for himself. This is one black with fading text in gold. A little gaudy for his tastes, but one he'll gladly accept anyways.

"Was there anything in particular you wanted to make?" Ignis says while he's tying the string around the back of his neck.

Prompto undoes the clips and readjusts his hair. "Well, there's a really good recipe I remember you made one time," With his free hand, he flips through the pages of the recipe book. "Ah, that's it, I think. Hopefully, it's not too much veggies and Noct will actually eat it this time."

 _Dry-aged tender roast stew,_ reads his own written in a cramped cursive. Ignis looks over to see Prompto scanning the recipe.

At this moment, the kitchen is entirely Prompto's own. That is, that Prompto has his own methodology to his cooking. An organized chaos, Ignis is tempted to call it, though the kitchen is not in nearly as bad shape as he's seen before.

Noctis is still shivering on the couch, with Gladio now curled around him and a giant comforter covering them both. Their bickering and teasing is faint in the background –  _"You're gonna catch a cold, Gladio." "Aww, is someone worried about me?"_ – but still audible. Ignis and Prompto look at each other and laugh.

"I'll get started on the veggies, if you don't mind," Prompto says.

Ignis nods and begins to make work with the garula steak. His confidence with a knife doesn't change, no matter where he finds himself. Prompto, meanwhile, also seems to work with precision when he's slicing the tomatoes. Even as his eyes aren't focused on his hands, he doesn't cut himself nor does he miss the tomato. A far cry from the jittery personality most know him to be, his body's reflexes operate like a machine. All things considered, he's much more methodical than Ignis gives him credit for.

Ignis's losing focus on his own work, much more enraptured by the way Prompto's fingers flex as he moves. His eyes focused and unwavering. He looks effortlessly attractive and the subtle beads of sweat from the heat only make Ignis even more worked up.

Ignis knows that Prompto's trying his hardest to prove himself useful. Prompto doesn't need to prove anything, really; he's already plenty that he doesn't even realize.

From across the counter, they're interrupted by a sneeze. "Is it done yet?" Noctis says with a sniffle.

"Seriously, Noct? Ya gotta be patient," Prompto yells over his shoulder. "The soup doesn't make itself."

 

|||

 

_"You can add the tomatoes now."_

_"Ah, right. How much longer you think it'll be?"_

_"Ten more minutes, I'd say. I'd usually give it a bit longer, but someone seems a tad tired of waiting for his meal."_

 

 

"Do you cook often?"

For a second, Prompto tenses up. The tips of his fingers go white as he's grasping at his biceps. Perhaps the question comes across as too accusatory, not that Ignis wants it to. He's seen Prompto work with automaticity, whether he's pressing a gun to an MTs back or a knife to a tomato. That talent, the talent Prompto doesn't recognize, it must've come from somewhere.

"Got a bit of practice since I, uh, sorta officially cut ties with my parents," Prompto's forcing himself not to look dejected and yet his quivering lips betray him. Any mention of his parents has always brought along some undesirable tension in his body. "I'm not like an expert or anything, though."

Ignis's eyes are downcast, his hands fully absorbed in stirring the soup pot. His knuckles too, start to go white as he's gripping to the edge of the marble countertop. Prompto's nervous to continue, Ignis knows, so he prompts him to with the slight raise of an eyebrow.

"I don't know, I guess it's just so weird having all of you guys here with me," Prompto says. "I'm just not used to having so many  _people_ , in my life, all at once."

"Similarly, I," he knows what he wants to say and yet Ignis finds himself uncharacteristically restrained.  _Family,_ it's never been a favorite subject of his. Neither for any of them, if he's going to be honest. Though, he comforts himself knowing that Prompto wouldn't judge him for such a thing. "My family's never been particularly close, so it wasn't uncommon that I had to take care of myself."

"What about your uncle?"

"Ah well he," Ignis turns around to find Gladio and Noctis asleep on the couch. "He suffered the same fate as the rest of Insomnia."

Prompto hums solemnly and rests his head on Ignis's shoulder. His face buries in the side of Ignis's neck. There aren't tears, only the silent sadness that sweeps over them both. Ignis takes his hand and strokes Prompto's head. It's a gentle kiss, one that he places on Prompto's forehead while his fingers weave curls in his hair.

"Regardless," Ignis whispers as he presses a second kiss on Prompto's forehead. "We've found plenty of family here, haven't we? That, I believe, is more than enough."

_"Yeah, you're right."_

 

|||

 

As Prompto's carefully balancing the weight of the soup pot in his hands, Gladio perks up and Noctis, who had fallen asleep on his lap, jerks with the sudden movement.

Gladio gives Noctis a gentle push on the back. "Oh,  _nice,"_   Gladio says with a grin. "C'mon Princess, soup's ready."

Noctis is incredibly sluggish as he get's up, needing Gladio to grab him by the arm before he's completely off the couch. He brings the blanket along with him.

Ignis places two empty bowls on the table, playfully slapping away Gladio's hand as he tries to take the first scoop. Prompto's eagerly shaking behind them, he seems too fidgety to even take a seat. 

"Soup's good," Noctis mutters. Gladio hums in agreement.

"You know it's good stuff when Noct's willing to eat the veggies," Gladio teases and bumps Noctis with his elbow.

He might as well take some for Prompto and himself. The steam from his own bowl is fogging up his glasses and the aroma's got him eager already. He takes a first sip, a little hot still, but not enough to burn his tongue. Instead, he's left with a pleasant taste, a little salty, though subdued enough that it isn't overpowering.

"Noct's quite right," Ignis says. "Nice work, Prompto."

Prompto fiddles with the tablecloth. "Ah, well, thanks Iggy. I'm glad you were here to save my ass."

"Nonsense," Ignis says. "You should be proud. You're already quite the talented cook."

There Prompto goes again, being embarrassed about compliments that are  _completely_ warranted. Prompto quietly takes a sip from his own soup bowl, his face completely illuminated despite the fact that he doesn't seem to want to say anything about it. 

Ignis continues to sip eagerly at his soup. His eyes always find themselves back on Prompto, with a wide, crooked smile as Gladio and Noctis are showering his work with praise. Ignis smiles.

A family moment. It's been a long time since Ignis had one of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we know jack shit about ignis's family, except for some detail somewhere that mentions ignis's uncle, which is why i keep mentioning him. forbidden square enix, tell me more about ignis's family.


	5. the center of our universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day five | ~~status ailment~~ or ignis gets captured, prompto gets blinded
> 
> sometimes, ignis has memories that aren't his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for dissociation and injuries. 
> 
> this is the only chapter that has both povs instead of just one. also takes place during the world of ruin because why not.
> 
> this might be a weird take on this prompt, but i had a cool idea i wanted to get out. this is most angst it's gonna get and then we're back to some nice fluff tomorrow.

**_i._ **

Sometimes, Ignis has memories that aren't his own.

It's at the latest parts of the night, the night that's engulfed everything, the perpetual night that he's been living little more than nine years. It's the lastest parts of the night and Ignis is on the edge of sleep when suddenly, he sees flashes of reality that are not his own. It could be only a few seconds. It could be hours. It could be years.

Prompto and Ignis huddle close together as they sleep. Ignis runs his calloused fingers over Prompto's sleeping face, careful not to wake him.

He tries to ignore the ringing from deep inside of him, using Prompto as his only distraction. The ringing is not from his ears; somewhere else inside of his mind he feels like someone's calling out for him. Who or what exactly it is, Ignis doesn't know. It doesn't always sound like one distinct voice, it could be a medley horrific voices, all twisted together from the ones he knows.

One particular night, he feels like he's going to lose himself completely. His soul's detached from his body. He's unable to focus on anything, not even the soft whimpers that Prompto makes in his sleep, as he's nudging closer to Ignis for warmth. Ignis, as he keeps slipping out of reality, holds Prompto closer than ever. He lets their breathing fall in sync. Prompto's chest rises as Ignis's chest rises.

There is one thing that he can't afford to lose.

_Prompto._

 

 

**_ii._ **

And when he focuses again, he's taken from the warmth around him and plunged into a vast whiteness. Ignis's breathing starts to pick up, breaking from the calm, lulling rhythm of the night. Now his breathing is rapid and sharp. So shallow that he's about to choke.

He realizes. His vision. More than nine years of his emptiness and yet now he sees everything so life-like in front of him. Ignis gulps.  _So this is a dream,_ of course, that's the only way. And yet his body feels so heavy, so sluggish with fatigue that he mustn't be dreaming yet. The dream is what will come after this.

There is a gloved hand that blurs in and out of existence in front of him. His eyes are heavy with the snow catching on his eyelashes. Is this Niflheim? Gralea? There's nothing distinct enough around him to suggest either or.

He doesn't have any choice but to move forward. It doesn't come easy, especially when the feeling of moving his head from side to side is too much. That sluggishness in his body is catching up to him, leaving everything nearly unresponsive. Trapped inside of a body that won't move, that won't respond to his will, no matter how hard he fights.

He wants to move forward but he can't. He's already sunken to his knees, unable to feel most of his body. A swarm of MTs are surrounding him, all ready to take him in.

 _There is no resistance to the end._ Ignis thinks briefly. So dire, in an odd way that's almost comforting to him. _So, why bother trying?_

 

 

**_iii._ **

This is a metal door in front of him. These are metal walls surrounding him. This is not Zegnautus Keep. This is still a prison.

If he focuses hard enough, he's sure he hears a piercing cry from beyond the metal. The entire air is sterile, medical. It smells like chemicals, so much so that Ignis's nose burns.

His body is light and everything feels hair-trigger. Maybe that's why everything burns so much. Every one of his senses feel like it's been put into overdrive. Fingers twitching more than they should, ears hearing a bit more than they should.

Ignis's wrist itches. His eyes are instantaneously drawn to stark black bars against pale skin. It itches, it hurts like hell and worst. Bumps cover the barcode, as remnants from older scars. It burns like hell.

There's something eating away at Ignis from the inside that he wishes he could just get rid of, but he  _can't._

Ignis feels like an idiot for not realizing earlier. He was holding onto Prompto, and now he's closer to him than he could've ever imagined.

But he's still alive. From the howling storms of Niflheim, he's still alive, so he must make it out alive with Prompto's body still intact. It's the least he can do for him.

The room looks like it's been abandoned long ago, with papers and journal entries scattered about the floor without a care. The one thing that stand out, aside from the industrial metal doors, is a small box on a stand next to the doors. Passcode for entry?

He places his hand against the scanner, trying to inspect. The black bars on his wrist glow a cyan, only for a moment, and then the doors begin to slide open. Along with it comes a mechanical voice.

"This unit is compromised," the mechanical voice says. This unit. Shit, is all Ignis can think. He's going to be hunted down.

Footsteps, now there are footsteps behind him. "She still remembers you, after all these years." Ignis jerks around. It's that taunting and horrifyingly nonchalant voice that's have been taunting him for so long. This voice is not part of the dream.  _This is not a dream._

" _You,"_ this voice that leaves his lips, no doubt, is not his. Ignis feels like he's forcing it to be aggressive, though part of it might be Prompto's own pent up anger towards the man that captured him and singlehandedly caused ruin to their lives. Whatever Prompto is feeling, Ignis thinks he feels it too.

He's about to draw a gun from the Armiger, but the magic isn't there. No semblance of blue light or the powerful surge he feels with it. Nothing.

With that same smirk of his, Ardyn thrusts a gun to Ignis's chest. Ardyn tells him he can't be spilling blood. His,  _Prompto's,_ blood is too precious for that.

All he's left with is a gun and his will to survive. Compromised, they're going to hunt him down.

He holds himself, one hand placed over his chest. Prompto's heart, pounding inside him. His ever so sensitive ears can feel the beating within them. He counts the beats.

Where is Prompto? He needs to find Prompto. No, Prompto is already here, he  _is_ Prompto. But he's also so far away, another eternity away that Ignis can't reach. 

When he wakes will Prompto remember that he was with him? Or is that too going to be lost to the universe?

 

 

 ** _iv._**  
Sometimes, Prompto has the same.

Perhaps not at the same time, perhaps not in the same way. Yet, sometimes he finds himself in this otherworldly place without even meaning to. Even in the middle of battle, his body begins to grow lighter and lighter, until he doesn't have enough strength to even hold up his head.

And when he comes to, he's no longer in the same place he once was.

There's the heaviness of his clothes as he sits in seawater. It's rising and falling almost as rhythmically as the air in his lungs. He remembers hearing a blast but he can't place exactly where he is or what happened to him. This is Altissia, no doubt. The Altissia that he remembers seeing in ruins.

All he can do now is swim to shore.

On a floating platform, broken off from the rest of a bridge, he takes a moment to catch his breath. Prompto realizes, he's got an earpiece on and adjusts it slightly until a startling screech rings in his ear.

 _"Iggy, I thought you were a goner,"_ avoice comes through fuzzy, yet it undoubtedly sounds like his own voice. Prompto's own voice.

Iggy? Iggy, shit, the voice is talking about Prompto. Prompto, who's no longer himself. Prompto who is Iggy now.

He's been split in two, part of himself has left his body and is here, with Ignis. Wherever the other half is, it's pulling him closer.

He only hopes that he can find it soon enough.

 

 

**_v._ **

He isn't sure if he still has control over Ignis. Ignis, in this instance, might've taken back control of his body. The ring, it's taunting him, like a magnetic force that pulls his finger to it.

His mind wants to hesitate but the body doesn't and forces the ring to his middle finger.

The kings of Lucis are all around him now. Flashes of glowing light that form vague shapes in front of him. The light starts to surround him wholly. It travels through him, fire pulsing through his veins. Prompto knows it now, the indescribable chaos that surrounds their world. It's all pressing down on his head, his chest. He can see two things at once, feel two things at once and be in two places at once.

He loses himself to the chaos.

What feels like years later, he comes to. When he opens his eyes, it's empty. It's not pitch black, but a never-ending nothingness around him. Prompto can't tell if the fingers that he's moving are his or if they're Ignis's. Or if the heart that's pounding in his chest is his or if it's Ignis's.

Maybe, it's both. Two hearts beating in sync from opposite sides of the universe. Wherever Ignis is, Prompto hopes he can feel his heart beating too.

"Iggy!" he hears Gladio yell, almost completely drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Gladio gently lifts Prompto's head off the ground. Prompto wants to say something, _anything_ , but his throat is to weak to make a noise.

"Iggy!" comes a second voice. Is it, is it his own? Like from a tape recording, his own voice heard through filters and fuzz. It barely sounds real. It's the part of himself still in his own body, onlooking the damage that Ignis, _that he_ , has done.

Again, Prompto feels like he's in two places at once. It's either the feeling of his own fingers moving alongside Ignis's or his mind playing tricks on him.

All of the noise around him grows fuzzier by the second until all of the voices have melted together into one. Prompto's losing his grip.

When he's gone will Ignis remember that they were together? Or is this too another sick joke that the Astrals have played on him?

 

 

**_vi._ **

"Prompto?"

Ignis holds the shaking body next to him closer. He lets Prompto's head rest against his chest. Prompto wraps his arms around Ignis even tighter than before and Ignis reciprocates with a small kiss on the head.

Ignis is hit with the same feeling again, that his soul is going to float away and leave nothing behind.

But Prompto is here, is here to catch him. They'll stay together, through this night. Ignis sees it coming soon. It's a vision that carried over from the world beyond. A vision of the day when the light will return.

They've both just gotta hold on until it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this my favorite one i've done so far because i really enjoy over-complicated prose about nonsensical settings and scenarios.


	6. spare me a minute, won't you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6 | dancing or ~~ignis finding out prompto got pushed off the train~~
> 
> there are precious secrets that spill on the dance floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor content warning for alcohol consumption but there isn't much.
> 
> this one takes place in an au! prom's an mt, like full-fledged, armor and everything. burns if he hits the sunlight, probably looks like a daemon or something under the armor. that kinda mt. meanwhile, iggy's one of luna's retainers and works under the tenebraen royal family instead.

Today, ambassadors and royalty are gathering from all across Eos to pay respects to King Regis's court. Perfect opportunity for an assassination, Prompto figures, and one of the relatively unpopular Emperor Aldercapt wouldn't surprise him that much. Prompto, of course, doesn't participate in court. He only watches from afar, wondering what kind of betrayals go on behind royal back.

Prompto's keeping watch over the front gates. He's notorious for having the diligent eyes of the army, more so than the other sniper units. He doesn't mind being Niflheim's designated watchdog, not when it's one of the few things he takes pride in.

It feels odd being stationed somewhere away from home. Insomnia is a completely different feeling from the sterile confinement he's been living in Gralea. It's not a bad kind of different, instead, it's refreshing. Stationed across from him is an Insomnian soldier, taller and broader than himself. The Insomnian soldier doesn't pay Prompto any mind. Their head is fixed straight ahead as a hazy flood of people enter through the Citadel gates.

He's lucky to have been let out of Gralea at all, so he cherishes the moment. Even a moment as simple as watching guard.

He notices another vehicle pulling up and out from it a long white dress, almost like a wedding dress, exits. The Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. She wears a sleek white dress with accents of gold, alongside golden, open-toed heels that peek put from under the skirt.

A second figure emerges from the vehicle, this time adorned in all black. Ignis Scientia, a viscount from Tenebrae, Prompto recognizes his face from the attack on Tenebrae. An attack Prompto thankfully had no part of, though still heard of second hand from the facility's medical personnel. The version they told him was false, no doubt.

Lady Lunafreya is walking alongside him, the long trail of her dress swaying back and forth while the sunlight shines off her golden jewelry. Ignis's hands are hovering closely over her back, he looks ready to pull a dagger at any moment. The two whisper something into each other's ears, words lost in the wind.

As they walk past, Ignis offers a smile. Prompto wonders if it's for him, or maybe he's just doing it to be courteous. Underneath his helmet, Prompto smiles back.

 

|||

 

Prompto would rather be stationed next to the Emperor. Him, and only him. It'd make it easier to wedge a knife through his throat or blast a bullet through his skull. If they were alone, he'd dispatch of the Emperor quickly. His only worry would be where to hide the body.

But he's stuck here instead. Prompto isn't a commander, nor does he have a high enough rank that would make him trustworthy. He's off to the side of the ballroom floor, onlooking all of the chatter.

A taller man exits the ballroom floor and stands next to Prompto. It's the handsome viscount again. He looks distressed and hurriedly pops open a bottle of wine. Prompto hadn't gotten a chance to look at him properly before but now he's able to observe his face straight on. The line of his jaw, his green eyes that shine like emeralds. He watches his lips purse ever-so-slightly as he takes a sip from a wine glass.

Prompto's barely paying attention to anything else when he trips over his foot and bumps into Ignis. And almost spills the wine all over Ignis.

"Ah, sorry!" Prompto's voice comes out raspy.  _Shit,_ he hopes that no commander is watching him because those two words have already cost him a few demerit points. Talking is against protocol.

Ignis is caught off guard. He probably doesn't expect an MT to be anything more than a mindless machine. Not a timid young man trapped underneath a suit of armor. A clumsy idiot trapped in a suit of armor. Truthfully, Prompto knows that the MTs are trained to keep their mouths shut. It help's his father forget that they were once human at all.

Ignis's face is somewhere between distressed and smiling. "Not a worry," he says finally, though Prompto's certain he has plenty of worries at the moment. "There aren't any stains, thankfully." 

"That's good," Prompto says. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you had bloodstains, or something."

Ignis flinches and now Prompto really knows that's he's overstepping his boundaries.

"You're quite the charming one, aren't you?" Ignis says, sipping his wine glass.

At moments like this, he's thankful for his armor. Otherwise, his body would've given away his emotions too quickly.

"I don't believe I caught your name," Ignis says. 

"I'm," he hesitates. Saying his name instead of his unit number is against protocol. Then again, talking to Ignis in the first place is against protocol. If anyone else was watching, they would've already called for him to be decommissioned.

"I'm Prompto," he says. _Prompto Besithia_ , technically, though the last name is the part he's thankful that he can leave behind.

"It's a pleasure, Prompto," though, truthfully, the pleasure is all his. "Lord Ignis Scientia, though we can ignore the formalities. Ignis is just fine."

 

|||

 

Prompto spends a good thirty minutes more than he should talking to Ignis. It's the most use his voicebox has gotten in all his twenty-odd years, though the discomfort in his throat quickly disappears. He's just too enraptured in Ignis to think about that anymore. And he's never found someone who seems so intrigued by his life, all the while, Prompto is careful not to give away the shocking details.

He has something on the tip of his tongue when a dramatic piano melody overtakes the hall. "What's this—"

"The Insomnian Waltz, a traditional Lucian piano piece," Ignis says. "Usually an occasion for couples to take to the floor. Care for a dance?"

Ignis holds out his right hand.

Prompto blinks, wide-eyed under his mask. " _Me?"_

"Of course you," he laughs. "There isn't anyone else around but the two of us, now is there?"

Prompto gulps. This isn't something his training prepared him for. _What To Do When A Handsome Viscount Asks You For A Dance 101_ , he never saw that handbook anywhere.

"Sorry, I," Prompto lowers his head. "I'm on duty right now. Besides, I don't wanna get you in trouble." He's already gotten himself in trouble. But Ignis—Ignis, he can save the embarrassment of being caught dancing with an MT.

Ignis frowns. "Spare me a minute of your time, won't you?" he says. "We could stay here, out of the crowd, if that makes you more comfortable."

"But, I don't know how to dance."

"You don't need to, just follow my lead."

He's eagerly holding out one hand, which Prompto takes hesitantly into his. His other hand wraps around Prompto's waist, or the metal plate that's covering it, at least. Ignis quickly falls into rhythm and Prompto tries his best to keep up.

"You're quite the dancer," Ignis says.

Heat is gathering on his cheeks and Prompto's armor feels even hotter than before.

It's an odd kind of closeness that Prompto isn't used to. Any sort of intimacy really, it's unknown to him. And whenever he's held like this, it's usually from the doctors that are trying to keep him from running away. With Ignis, he doesn't want to run away, he wants to stay close.

"Y'know, I remember seeing you this morning at the front gates," Prompto says with a giggle. "When you walked in through those gates, I was pretty impressed. You almost looked ready to kill."

"And who says I wasn't?" Ignis says. Prompto quickly found out that Ignis has a rather  _sharp_ sense of humor. Though this time, Prompto isn't too sure he's joking. The way Ignis held himself, confident, although incredibly tense tells Prompto that he must be up to  _something_. 

Prompto leans in closer to Ignis. "If you're here to kill the Emperor, I wouldn't mind helping," he says. Prompto runs his hand over a dagger holster that Ignis conceals with his blazer. "Though I'm wondering how you plan on getting away with it."

Ignis smirks. "I have Lady Lunafreya's support behind me," he says. "She'll have no problem dispatching the other soldiers while I make way for the emperor."

"A two-man team isn't a lot considering you're trying to kill one of the most important people in all of Eos."

"We could be a three-man team with your help."

It's a tempting thought, to run away from the Empire with Ignis and Lady Lunafreya. "Why are you trusting me with all this?" Prompto asks.

"You sounded quite eager to kill the Emperor yourself, did you not?"

Prompto scans the room to see if anyone was listening in. In the farthest corner of the ballroom, they blend in comfortably among the myriad of dancers. Prompto holds his head down, partly because he's worried about stepping over his own feet and partly because he's too embarrassed to look Ignis in the eyes. He wonders if Ignis is uncomfortable wrapping his arms around Prompto's armor like this. If he could've taken it off, he would've already. And how badly he wants to kiss Ignis, those perfectly shaped, soft-looking lips of his; it's killing him inside.

Just as Ignis is about to lift his helmet, Prompto jerks back. "Sorry," he mutters and starts to drift further from Ignis. Their fingers that once held together pull away. 

"I don't think you want to kiss what's underneath."

Ignis should already know by now and if he doesn't, Prompto is wondering how. Prompto isn't like him, that much should be clear as day. Prompto isn't human. Those lips are best reserved for someone else.

Ignis pouts and his face flushes with a rosy color. His grip doesn't loosen, instead, it feels like he's holding onto Prompto tighter than ever. Is it the alcohol or does Ignis genuinely want to kiss him? Either way, it's a bad idea and Prompto needs to get out of here as quickly as possible. This entire thing is a bad idea and he needs to get out of here as quickly as possible.

He  _should_ get out of here as quickly as possible, though he isn't making much of an effort to.

Ignis's arms are tightly wrapped around the jagged edges of Prompto's armor, and his mouth edging ever closer to the mask's. It feels so wrong and yet Prompto doesn't want to fight it. He stops trying to resist and lets Ignis kiss him, as close as he can get before the mask gets in the way. Ignis doesn't seem to mind, his passion still holds as he's pressing his lips against the cold metal.

The Insomnian Waltz fades to silence and Ignis starts to drift further from Prompto, now looking him in the eyes. The eyes that glow red through his mask. Ignis can't see it, but he's staring right back at him.

Just as Ignis is about to let go from him, Prompto reaches for his own holster and pulls out a silver revolver. "If you're gonna take out the Emperor, take one of my guns for good measure. I can handle the other guys from down here."

"Go now," Prompto says. "Cause you don't have much time left."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this au is cool i kinda wanna expand on it more lol.
> 
> promnis week aka how many different scenarios can i write that inevitatbly end in prompto and ignis either kissing or cuddling.


	7. i'm biting my tongue (but the words don't come)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day seven | ~~bdsm~~ or a moment when ignis saw prompto’s true inner strength come through + bonus
> 
> ignis has a mission, one that he's not too keen on carrying out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo, it's the end of the line folks! this is late because i suddenly got struck with Writer's Block (TM) and also other issues (like deleted drafts lmao) but please enjoy nonetheless!!

_**i.** _

Three months into Prompto's Crownsguard training and Ignis can't say he was expecting all that much. It's to be expected that's there no reason for a regular crown citizen to be trained in combat.

Ignis quickly discovers that Prompto is a fast learner. He's a risk-reward type deal; it's that extra bit of investment that yields promising results. His face is riddled with nervousness, yet his body responds like he's been holding a gun his whole life. He's got a relaxed grip on the gun, shoulders and hips aligned. He lets the recoil from the gun run through him, not even bothering to flinch after every shot he makes. 

These private training sessions of their's have been going on for the past two weeks, ever since Prompto decided to confront Ignis about his overwhelming feelings of inadequacy.

 

>   _"It's really not necessary, Prompto. Regardless of what you may think, you've been performing well. You can't expect to be perfect at this stage, give yourself more time."_
> 
> _"C'mon, Iggy, please. A little extra training won't hurt, right?"_

 

Ignis couldn't resist that ridiculous pout of Prompto's. He's backed himself into a corner on this one.

The two decide to meet after sundown in the Citadel's training halls. They've tried hand-to-hand combat before but Ignis insists that Prompto practices with a weapon. Prompto's fiddling with the gun's safety.

From opposite ends of the room, they nod in acknowledgment of each other. Ignis's grip tightens around his daggers. Prompto reciprocates with a small twitch of the finger, his index finger currently resting on the trigger.

Prompto's still nervously bouncing from side to side when Ignis says. "Go all out."

Prompto nods. "You too."

Prompto makes the first move, charging at Ignis completely guns-blazing. He doesn't let up, not even for a second. Shoot, dodge, shoot, dodge. Prompto falls so quickly into that rhythm that Ignis swears it's second nature.

Ignis is quick on his feet and he's rarely one to let himself get carried away. He prides himself on that fact. Prompto though is starting to test his limits. He dodges Ignis's daggers with more speed than Ignis could've ever predicted.

There's something about the way Prompto moves that fascinates Ignis. He's always been swift, but this is unlike anything Ignis has ever seen before. With the Armiger, Ignis has the upper hand, he knows. And yet Prompto's still swiftly evading him. The next dagger Ignis hurls at him, Prompto barely manages to catch by the handle and he tosses it playfully to the ground.

Ignis retreats to summon more daggers to his side when, just for a moment, he feels something. Like all the air's been forced out of his lungs.

Prompto shoves Ignis to the side carried with the force of his whole body, the muzzle of his gun just barely grazing Ignis's cheek. When's Ignis's eyes open again, he's pinned to the ground. He kicks up with his legs, only to find himself knocked back to the ground under Prompto's weight. He tries to strike at Prompto again. With his left hand, Prompto resists the force of his dagger while the right pushes the muzzle of the gun until it's digging into Ignis's jaw. 

Ignis starts gasping for breath. With the weight sitting heavy on his lungs, he's about to pass out. 

Then, it stops. Like a switch's been flipped. Prompto's aggressiveness gives out and Ignis collapses to the ground, his daggers falling somewhere beside him. The gun too drops to the ground and leaves a mark where the muzzle was seared into Ignis's skin, burning hot.

"Sorry," Prompto says, rubbing at his neck. He's so far removed from the aggressive soldier Ignis witnessed mere moments ago. "Did I go too far?"

Ignis coughs. He wants to answer but he's still out of breath.

It's also a bit distracting when Prompto's sitting on top of him,  _straddling_  him. And his ass is sat right on top of Ignis's crotch.

Prompto looks down. All of a sudden, his face goes red. 

 

 

_**ii.**_  

Ignis is the first one to notice. Of course he is, it's been born into him to be observant. He could ignore a one-off incident but the more he thinks about it, the more it starts to bug him. He's never seen a demeanor shift so suddenly, and within seconds, Prompto snaps back to the usual nervous self.

The mark from Prompto's gun is still visible on his face. His skin is hot.

Ignis realizes. He's hardly gotten any paperwork done. Not even in the Citadel's council room is he able to keep his focus. His can of Ebony is empty too, he's all out of distractions now and he can't stop the ridiculous thumping of his legs as he sits. His hands too, they shake as though he's stuck in the Gralean winter without a jacket on. 

Ignis flinches when he feels a touch on his shoulder. He turns around to see Clarus Amicitia. His face is neither tense not relaxed. Clarus holds himself with every bit of pride and dignity that his body could ever allow. Ignis hopes his caffeine-hyped body isn't too apparent. And _gods,_ if only his legs would stop thumping.

"Lord Amicitia, good afternoon," Ignis says. Underneath the table, he holds his hands close to stop the shaking. "Do you need anything of me?"

"Myself? No. Though His Majesty is eager to have a word with you," Clarus says.

Ignis pauses to push up his glasses.

"Alone?"

_"Alone."_

 

 |||

  

King Regis sits across from him, one hand lazily shuffling through a stack of papers while the other is gripping the hand of a teacup. Ignis also has a teacup; he'd much rather go for a coffee right now but he's not to refuse His Majesty's gift.

There's a part of King Regis's face that's pained, already a bad sign. 

"Though I summoned you here, it isn't you I wish to discuss," he says. "I've been informed that you've taken it upon yourself to help Prompto Argentum with his training."

Ignis silent bites down on his lower lip. It's _this_ kind of meeting.

"I have," Ignis says rather defensively. "His training as a Crownsguard has been progressing well, Your Majesty. If you've planned to release him, I ask that—"

King Regis holds up a hand. "It's nothing of that sort, I assure you," he says. "I'm just curious what sort of fighter you've found him to be."

"Proficient, to say the least," Ignis says.

King Regis opens his mouth to reply, only to grimace before saying anything. "Ignis, tilt your head for me, there's something on your cheek."

So he does.

"A scar?"

"It was," he had to take a second to swallow all the spit building in my mouth. Even still, the words come out heavy. "Prompto's doing, we may have gotten a little carried away. Though I assure you it was only friendly sparing."

The King replies with a sort of accusatory _"I see"._ The accusatory part, maybe Ignis is only imagining that. Ignis can't say he's ever been this tense in his entire life. King Regis whispers something else under his breath, though it fails to catch Ignis's ears.

"The two of you have grown quite close these past months, I've noticed. All I ask is that you do a bit of background research on Prompto," King Regis pauses to take a sip of his tea.

Ignis's lips are held together and his grip tightens around the handle of the teacup. 

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ignis says. "I, I shall do my best."

Suddenly, King Regis's face shifts to a more stern expression. "I know this must be very difficult for you," he says. "But I find no one else more suitable for this than yourself."

That might be King Regis's playful, if a bit cruel, acknowledgment of Ignis's crush. Ignis doesn't say anything, simply nodding dutifully as he finishes the rest of his tea.

"There comes a time when we all must decide what we're more willing to sacrifice," King Regis says. "Our love or our duty. For those who would bear arms to the line of Lucis, the sacrifice must be made."

Ignis is in love, he can't deny it anymore. But in the end, which one prevails? His love or his duty?

If Ignis had a choice, he'd say that love would. But he doesn't, so he says nothing at all.

 

 

_**iii.**_  

Ignis has a tendency to care about other people more than he should.

He comes to this realization about two hours after his chat – for lack of a better word – with King Regis. Usually, Ignis takes care to keep his apartment tidy, yet today he finds himself drowning in paper scraps, bottle caps and more worries than he needed in one lifetime.

When he stops to think about Prompto and what he knows about him—there isn't much. Prompto rarely talks about home, and any mention of his parents is quickly thrown away with a joke. Prompto'd much rather content himself with hearing about the Citadel, about Noct, about Gladio, about Ignis. 

He knows that there's something about Prompto that separates him from the rest of the crown citizens.

_Background research_ , Ignis keeps replaying those words over and over. Indecipherable code, no doubt. Whatever kind of things _background research_ entails, Ignis can't really wrap his head around. Though there's one thing he's absolutely certain of.

He's been hired to spy on his crush.

His heart sinks even lower than it already had. Damn well next to his feet and on the ground. Or, even worse, it's as though his heart's been ripped clean from his chest and tossed aside, while he's left to bleed out.

This is betrayal, of the worst degree.

 

 

_**iv.**_

Ignis arrives with a packed box of leftover sushi. He feels a bit guilty; Ignis still goes easy on Noctis when he's 18 and should know how to cook at least something by now.

Before his hand is even on the doorknob, he hears a voice call out from beyond the door. A bit muffled, though it's clear that the voice is calling out to him.  _Iggy,_ the voice calls out. 

Once he's through the doorway, he sees one limp body is passed out on Noctis's couch while Prompto's busy eating the leftovers from a ripped pizza box. That was dinner, Ignis assumes.

"Oh, hey Iggy!" Prompto's mumbling from the food still in his mouth.

"You've got quite the ears if you managed to hear me from outside," Ignis says.

"My secret talent," Prompto laughs. 

Ignis doesn't let the concern sully his face. Even still, ears that good is nothing less than supernatural.

"And how did you know it was me?"

"Gladio would never, not this late anyways," Prompto says. "So I figured it had to be you."

Prompto offers another playful laugh, and Ignis joins in, despite his discomfort.

Ignis lifts up the packaged box. "This was useless I suppose if you've already eaten."

His eyes scan Prompto, from the tip of his bare feet to the black sweater he's wearing that certainly isn't his. His hair, definitely unwashed, leaves the gel smeared in all direction until it looks like an overgrown bush.

And thick-rimmed, black glasses that sit slightly crooked on his nose. They look a bit old and the temples are bent out of shape.

"I wasn't aware you had glasses," Ignis says.

Prompto removes the glasses and rubs the lenses with his shirt. "Yeah, they're like reading glasses," he says. "I mean, my vision up close is pretty bad, but it's not a problem in battle so, I don't usually wear them."

"And you're confident enough to aim a gun without them?" Prompto's posture straightens, almost reflexively. Ignis swears he sees his hands twitching, almost like how his hands twitched around the trigger of his gun.

"Guess so," Prompto shrugs. "I've always been really far-sighted so, ah I don't know, that's what I like about guns. I can read things from pretty far away. Might as well put it to good use, right? "

Prompto's laugh is self-deprecating and Ignis can't bring himself to humor that. He simply falls silent.

He wonders if Prompto himself understands what he's capable of.

 

_**v.**_

Ignis feels like he has a knife wedged in between his ribs. He's doing all this at the cost of his own conscience. This is betrayal, of the worst degree and it only hurts more with every passing second.

But Ignis sticks to protocol, regardless of what his stomach is telling him. The only comfort he has now is the tea His Majesty made him. He's too sick for tea.

The reports he's written, compiled over the past months, lay uncovered and untouched on the table for Ignis to bear witness to. Written on these papers are not reports about Prompto's life but instead the evidence of Ignis's sins.

King Regis stands to his left, one hand of Ignis's shoulder. On his right, Clarus and Cor look onwards with faces as dire as Ignis's own.

As a friend, Ignis already knows he can trust Prompto. As retainer to Lucis's heir apparent, he should've been skeptical a long time ago. No one goes without a background check, not even someone who's stolen his heart. They trust Prompto already, they all do, but—

All things considered, it's a difficult situation.

Today, he's given all of the existing reports stored in the Citadel about Prompto. There's staggeringly few, already a telltale sign that something is wrong.

All the information Ignis has managed to find about Prompto's parents thus far is hazy. Skimming through the reports the inconsistencies are laid bare in front of him. One report says his parents were refugees from Niflheim that adopted him before fleeing. Another says he was adopted in Insomnia after they successfully fleed from Niflheim. Regardless of what is true, if anything at all, Ignis already figured out what he needed to know.

"These papers are fake," Ignis says.

"It would appear so," King Regis says. His posture doesn't waver, not a single inch. His expression doesn't change as he picks up the papers and tosses them aside.

"These papers are fake," Ignis says, this time with more gravity. "And you knew the whole time, did you not?"

King Regis nods. "Of course. I was the one who wrote them, after all."

He's not about to cuss out the most important person in the whole country, but he's damn well close to. Not as anger towards His Majesty, but some other anger that comes from a place he can't reach.

Why he's so angry, he doesn't have the courage to admit. When he thinks it to himself, he realizes it's stupid to get himself tied up in Prompto's affairs. His loyalties lie with the Kingdom of Lucis, first and foremost. Prompto doesn't exist above the will of the law.

King Regis is shooting him a look of concern, while Ignis tries his best to keep it together.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Ignis's voice is on the verge of breaking. "Did you set me up?"

"No, that wasn't the intention," King Regis says. "What I had heard about Prompto's battle instincts from Cor was concerning and what you told me about Prompto only confirms our suspicions." 

"He's most certainly the product of experimentation beyond our understanding," Clarus says.

Prompto is—Prompto is an experiment then. Not even granted the title of a human. An experiment only.

He will be deemed a threat. Threats are dangerous. Threats are to be removed. Threats aren't something that you fall in love with.

"Regardless, we know that Prompto has proven his loyalty," King Regis says.

Cor nods. "Dangerous when in the wrong hands. But with us, kid's got lots of potential for greatness. The tools of the Empire, turned against—"

Ignis slams both hands on the table. The cup of tea beside him flies into the air, leaving droplets all over the fake papers and the tablecloth.

"He's a hardly a weapon for you to use! So _don't_ speak of him as such!"

King Regis withdraws, as do Clarus and Cor. They're all slightly wide-eyed as Ignis panting for breath, shoulders heaving.

_Great,_ he's done it, he's lost it to the most damn well important person in the whole country and a few others too.

But Ignis doesn't stop heaving, his heart rate won't slow down. He's found himself an enemy weapon, hiding in plain sight.

_What's the point of all of this_ , Ignis thinks. What's the point? 

What's the point of making enemies when you just find yourself in love with them instead?

 

 

_**vi.**_  

Ignis doesn't put the pieces together until much later.

A weakness of his, perhaps, that he was so dead set on his own conclusion of reality that the stubbornness encases him like quicksand. He's always been pretty stubborn, for better or for worse. 

For worse, he knows. What kills a man faster, loyalty or stubbornness? What happens when a man has too much of both?

Or perhaps, he put the pieces together long ago. Ever since the encounter with King Regis, there couldn't have been any other explaination for all of this. The reflexes, the senses, the instincts. Such things that Prompto had beyond any reasonable human capabilities. And yet, he wasn't willing to hear it from anyone except Prompto himself. 

(Ignis can accept Prompto for whatever he may be, he can do more than that. Love him and hold him even if the sun never returns to their side. He wonders if Prompto is willing to do the same. For what becomes of the man that can love everyone except himself?)

Prompto sits across from Ignis. The silence has been eating away at him for a while now. And yet, Ignis is stuck for words. Prompto too. They both have so much that only goes unsaid, uncut strings that will start to choke both of them if they don't act soon.

"Prompto," he whispers. He holds out his hand to the empty space between them. He wants Prompto to hold him close, and he doesn't want to let go. The ache for what never could, the want for what never will. It's like a gash through his heart. 

He hears the shuffling of Prompto's jacket, until a warm palm is pressed against his chest.

"There's lots you wanna know I'm sure," Prompto says. "It's a pretty long story. And pretty messy too. Are, are you willing to stick around?"

Ignis runs his thumbs over Prompto's wrist. His right wrist, Ignis quickly figures out from the bumps. Prompto's hands, they're barren, leaving Ignis to touch every callous and scar that graces Prompto's hand. Prompto's hands, they're warm.

Ignis smiles. For Prompto, he'll listen to his story. He'll listen to it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is another one of those fics about prompto having things like heightened senses and killer reflexes because he was essentially born for that kind of stuff. prompto himself doesn't really notice but ignis Does. and he finds some shit out.
> 
> reading back, i feel like i antagonized regis, clarus n cor a lot there. but since it's from ignis's perspective, he probably would feel like they're being antagonistic.
> 
> anyways thanks so much to those who stuck around, i can't thank you all enough for the support!! hope you had a wonderful promnis week!!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/earthshakr) if you'd like!! it's mostly just ffxv and other video game bullshit.
> 
> i'm gonna be late on a few of the days, most likely because of school and about 20 million other things i need to do. hopefully, this is okay and if anyone sees any mistakes, hmu!!


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